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"You sure you don't know her?" Rachel said, meeting the woman's gaze.
The woman shrugged. "Your friend an old white guy?"
"What?"
"I mean... you said you're asking for a friend. Is he an old white guy? Because I'd like to hear it from him."
She waited impatiently, and it took Rachel a second to realize what the woman meant.
An old white...
She reached for her wallet, and peeled off a couple bills. She slid them across the counter.
The woman eyed them, but then sighed. "Sure, I can show you the restroom," she said, loud enough for the guard above them to hear. "Follow me," the woman replied, leading Rachel through the brothel. As they walked, Rachel couldn't help but steal glances at the other women in the room, wondering how many of them were also hiding secrets.
As they walked deeper into the brothel, Rachel's senses were assaulted by the heavy perfume and smoky air. The dim lighting cast eerie shadows on the walls while sultry music played softly in the background. Trying her best to blend in, she kept her eyes fixed on the native woman, hoping no one would notice her tense posture and darting glances.
Rachel swallowed hard, remembering her aunt's warnings about the place. Though it had a new name, she doubted it had grown any gentler to outsiders. But she couldn't turn back now; she needed answers.
"Over there," the woman said, pointing across the room to a small table nestled in the corner. "That's where Candace used to sit. Sometimes she'd be with clients, sometimes by herself."
"So you did know her?"
They were standing in a small hall behind a bead curtain. Alone, for now.
"I did."
The woman glanced at her. "You sure you're not a cop?"
"You think they like hiring Cherokee?" Rachel countered.
This direct mention seemed to cause the other woman to relax a bit.
"Did you see anyone unusual around her before she disappeared?" Rachel asked, keeping her voice low and steady.
The native woman frowned, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for the answer.
Rachel sighed, and handed over another bill.
This seemed to loosen the bartender's lips. "There was one man... tall, with dark hair and cold eyes. He came in a few times, always watching her from a distance. I didn't like the way he looked at her."
"Did you ever talk to him? Did Candace ever mention him?"
"No, he never spoke to any of us. Just watched." The woman's voice wavered slightly. "I told Candace to be careful, but she just laughed it off."
"Do you have an address for Candace? Her real name?"
"You are a cop, aren't you?"
"No."
"I don't know her name. How would I?"
"Who might?"
"The office."
"And where's that?"
